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He might be eighteen, but to me, he would always be my baby brother.
“Buck up, little brother, it’s all in hand.”
“You signed?” he asked.
I sat down next to him.
“Of course I did. Was there ever any doubt?”
“Well—”
“Don’t answer that.”
“So, he’s gonna live?”
“Can’t tell,” I said with a shrug. “The doctor didn’t even know, but they couldn’t do anything without my consent, which they now have. I’ve cleared them to do anything they need to do.”
“Oh, thank St. Brigid!” he said, relief filling his face.
I nudged his shoulder with mine.
“No, thank me. Brigid might be a saint, but she wasn’t holding the pen.”
“You know what I meant! What changed your mind? I thought you were at the end of your rope with him.”
I rested my elbows on my knees.
“Maybe you showed me a better way. You were so ridiculously dedicated to saving him, it was hard for it not to rub off, at least a bit. Maybe there are some people worth not giving up on.”
I had been referring to my dad at that moment, but I also couldn’t help thinking of Maggie.
I was holding on pretty hard. I’d never done that before, even with real relationships, what few there had been, anyway, since I had always been more of a player than the commitment type.
It only went to further prove that Maggie was someone special. I loved her in a way I hadn’t loved anyone before.
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son!” someone shouted.
Eoin and I both looked up to see three of our brothers coming in through the meticulously cleaned sliding doors.
“Hey, fellas,” I said, getting up and hugging all of them in order of height, from Big Noel to Little Jim.
Medium Sean stood between them.
“You ready to get outta here?” Noel asked rhetorically, knowing full well how we all felt about hospitals.
“Hell yes!” I said.
There was a flurry of gasps from a cluster of nurses coming out of a nearby break room. When we were together, we tended to have that effect on women.
“Patrick couldn’t make it, hey?” I asked as we headed outside.
“Couldn’t get a flight,” Liam said.
“The rest of us are going to take you out on the town,” Noel said. “We’ll celebrate the big star you’re about to become. That’s if you’re willing to pour a few beers down your throat.”
“I think I recall how to do that,” I said, trying to remember the last time I’d been out with my brothers.
“Oh, come on, you really trying to tell us you haven’t been to any wild Hollywood wrap parties?” Liam chided.
“I’m only on one show which hasn’t wrapped yet,” I admitted.
“What the heck have you been doing then?” Liam asked.
“Networking mostly,” I confessed. “Hustling where I can, when I can.”
“Serious?” Noel asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Unfortunately.”
Jim nudged my arm.
“Please at least tell me you’ve been with some hot American girls.”
“He’s got a girlfriend,” Eoin blurted out.
“Had,” I corrected, swallowing down the bitter taste in my mouth.
Noel slapped my back.
“Ah, still, doesn’t mean you can’t have some fun, right?”
I wasn’t about to be ridiculed by telling him, but the only fun I could have was with Maggie. She had stolen my heart.
It was still a while until evening, so we went home first.
“Gavin!” my Aunt Tricia said, as soon as she saw me.
She took me in her arms and hugged me tightly.
“Hey, Aunt Tricia,” I wheezed.
She put me out at arm’s length and carefully examined my nose.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Looking for signs of cocaine.”
“I’m not—”
“Oh, come now! Hollywood is drowning in the stuff, as well as STDs. I hope you’re being careful.”
“Both of those things are things I could just as easily get in Victoria Square,” I pointed out.
“Away with you, you cheeky git,” she said, gently pushing me toward the door.
“Yes, Auntie,” I said, going back to my gang of brothers.
After a home-cooked dinner, thanks to Aunt Tricia, we bundled clown car style into Noel’s ancient Ford and headed for the city center to see what trouble we could get into.
The first spot we hit was a pub on Ann Street. It was one of the last in the area not to be franchised, maintaining some of its characters. As such, it tended to be pretty packed, even on a weekday night.
We were on our way to the bar counter when I was removed from the group of brothers and tackled with a hug.
“Ciara?” I asked, managing to pull away and get a look at my assailant, who had gone at me so relentlessly with her bear hug.
“Well, that’s a fine hello!” she said, thumping me playfully on the chest.
I had known Ciara O’Sullivan since we were kids. We had dated for a while when we were younger, if you can call going around to the local ice cream parlors and school dances “dating.”
It hadn’t ended well, but we had stayed friends. Whatever insignificant thing had existed between us had ended abruptly when her dad chased me from their house with a knife after he’d found out who my dad was.
